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King Saul at Mount Gilboa
1 Samuel 28:3–25, 31
The king of Israel tragically succumbs to defeat by the Philistines and death
See page 325 for visitor information.
Where Are We?
Mount Gilboa, an 18-kilometer-long ridge (or 11 miles), rises to a height of 650 meters (2,100 feet) above sea level. Its southeastern edge borders on the West Bank highlands and the Bet Shean Valley and on its northwestern side the Jezreel Valley. The Mount Gilboa Scenic Route traverses the entire length of the ridge. It is the place where King Saul died in battle, and many significant locations here, such as the communities of Malkishua and Merav, Jonathan Hill and Mount Avinadav, are named for members of Saul’s family. It is also home to the Gilboa iris, Iris haynei, which can be found blooming in the wild during March and April.
Setting the Scene
From the vantage point of this overlook we see just what King Saul would have seen from Mount Gilboa as he prepared to go to battle with the Philistine army. As we look across the valley to the left we see the Hill of Moreh, and nestled near the southwestern foot of its slope is the Arab village of Sulam, known in biblical times as Shunem. This was where the Philistine army was bivouacked. En-Dor, where Saul visited the witch, was on the other side of the Hill of Moreh, not far from its northeastern edge, but not visible from here. Off in the distance is the rounded top of Mount Tabor, and down in the valley below us are the modern agricultural communities of Kfar Yehezkel, Geva, and En Harod.
Fig. 10. Tel Bet She’an, where the Philistines hanged Saul’s body
The Context
King Saul was on the brink of catastrophe. His reign, which began with so much promise, had spiraled downward in the wake of many poor decisions. While earlier on he was able to defeat the Philistines, Israel’s most threatening enemy, at both Michmash and the Valley of Elah it was now clear that he had lost divine support. The Philistines had successfully penetrated Israelite territory in the Jezreel Valley, and their multitudes were encamped in an intimidating display, poised to push eastward and to isolate the Galilee in the north from the central highlands.
Who would help Saul? Terrified and alone, with no worthy counsel and no one to confide in, Saul was desperate for contact with the only person he believed could rescue him—the prophet Samuel, his estranged spiritual mentor. Unfortunately, Samuel was unavailable because he was dead. The king ordered the court prophets to seek a message from him, but they came up empty-handed. He consulted the priests, who used Urim and Thummim and other techniques to divine the future, but they were silent. He went to sleep each night clinging to the hope that Samuel would appear to the prophets in a dream they could interpret for him, but Samuel never showed (1 Sam. 28:6).
Frantic, Saul decided to avail himself of the services of a medium—a conjurer who would summon the spirit of Samuel up from the dead. In the ancient world, and even in the modern one, it was widely acknowledged that certain people were capable of contacting ghosts. However, these channels were deemed off-limits in Israel, and Saul himself had adopted a zero-tolerance approach to this phenomenon by declaring it a capital offense and driving out anyone dealing in necromancy in Israel (1 Sam. 28:3).
Yet because God did not answer him, in his desperation Saul was prepared to violate his own decree. He enlisted the help of two servants, who located a ghost wife in the village of En-Dor (1 Sam. 28:7–8).
It was imperative that the king’s identity remain hidden to the witch of En-Dor, so Saul prepared to visit her by disguising himself as a commoner. However, there were additional risks involved in this imprudent escapade: the danger that he would be recognized by his own subjects on the way to this hypocritical, illegal rendezvous or the chance that his identity would be discovered by the Philistines, whose camp lay dangerously close to the road to En-Dor. Saul’s two most loyal and trustworthy servants were the only ones privy to this masquerade; his partners to the crime, they led him safely to the woman’s door. Interestingly, they remain nameless, but they would ultimately play a pivotal role in the upcoming harrowing scene.
Consider for a moment Saul’s state of mind at this juncture. He was abandoned and isolated; a powerful army was practically on top of him; he was about to engage in an act that was despicable in his own eyes; and he was petrified that he would be seen and identified. He must have been a wreck. His digestive system was no doubt paralyzed and completely dysfunctional. His stomach was tied up in a thousand knots, and he couldn’t even look at food. He must have set out for the journey to En-Dor without having eaten for the entire day, perhaps even longer.
The Séance
When confronted with Saul’s request to hold a séance, the medium, not surprisingly, played the indignant, law-abiding citizen, accusing the stranger of setting her up. Somehow, however, she innately sensed her potential client’s desperation. No money changed hands here; she agreed to call up the spirit for him, as long as she was assured that no harm would come to her. The stranger placed his order: “Bring up Samuel for me” (1 Sam. 28:11). The witch got to work and handily produced results.
When the image of Samuel appeared to her, the medium let out a bloodcurdling scream—not because she had just seen a ghost, but because she immediately realized that her client was none other than King Saul. Her other patrons typically requested contact with the spirits of little-known country folk—a deceased child tragically plucked from life by disease or an ancient relative privy to dark family secrets. The intimidating visage of the prophet Samuel would not rise from his restless slumbers for any old Tom, Dick, or Harry. If he was here, it was for Saul, and if this was Saul then she was in big trouble.
But the king reassured her that she had nothing to fear, and the séance proceeded. Although the conversation took place directly between Samuel and Saul, the medium was the medium—she heard every word and understood, together with Saul, the imminence of the terrible tragedy that would take place the following day: the armies of Israel would be slaughtered by the Philistines, and Saul and his three sons would all die.
The Breakdown
Once again, consider Saul’s state of mind now. His last glimmer of hope for an encouraging message from Samuel had been cruelly shattered. There was no longer any way to get around the terrible events that awaited him. His powerful physique collapsed beneath the weight of this knowledge, and Saul fell to the ground, sprawled in all his height and girth on the floor (1 Sam. 28:20). He was in a state of shock. All his strength had been drained out of him. The world was ending.
The medium quickly pulled herself together and took charge of the situation, hoping to revive Saul with a bite to eat. Acutely aware of his compromising position, she subserviently appealed to the king’s sense of fairness. Just as she had done what he requested, now he must reciprocate by eating something so he would have strength for his journey back to camp.
But Saul was defiantly uncooperative. “I will not eat.”
The medium and the two servants understood that the king of Israel was in the midst of a breakdown. He was both physically and emotionally depleted, incapable of thinking rationally. They had a dire emergency on their hands—what should they do? They couldn’t call for help—their loyalty to Saul would not allow anyone else to see him in this humiliating state. There were no medical remedies that would magically cure Saul’s suffering. None of them would dare to administer a sharp slap to the king’s cheek under any circumstances. There was only one option.
They must hold an intervention.
The text keeps their exhortations private, but we can imagine what they may have said:
“Everyone is counting on you to lead us against the enemy, just as you did in Jabesh-Gilead and the Valley of Elah.”
“How can you send your sons into battle alone? What kind of an example will you be setting as a father?”
“Is this how you wish to be remembered in Israel—as one who surrendered to the uncircumcised without fighting?”
“Would the armies of Israel have assembled with you at Gilboa if they did not trust you?”
“No one can replace you. We are lost without you.”
Food Is Love
Lying there on the floor, Saul experienced his defining moment. He internalized the inevitability of his destiny and accepted it. He could not abandon his sons and the Israelite army on the battlefield. Even though he knew they would lose and die tomorrow, he pulled himself together and picked himself up off the floor. He sat down on the couch and said, “You’re right. I should eat something.”
The woman hurried off to get dinner. She prepared a scrumptious feast. While she was cooking, Saul no doubt conferred with his men about the upcoming battle, still recovering from the trauma of seeing into his future, still weak, yet level-headed.
The medium put the meal on the table, and Saul and his two servants began to eat. The food was delicious, not only because Saul was ravenous but because food is love—he could taste the woman’s care and concern for him in every morsel.
In his darkest moment Saul was literally scraped off the floor by these three simple folk. They showed him that the people of Israel had not yet given up on him. Although the end would be catastrophic, as king he was obligated to complete the task. Quitting was not an option. Saul’s comprehension of his responsibility to them provided him with the final boost of strength he needed to face his destiny.
The Bitter End
Much has been written about Saul’s suicide, one of six mentioned in the Bible. Although suicide is condemned in traditional Jewish law, the sages have justified Saul’s actions before the inevitability of Philistine abuse (Shulchan Aruch YD 345:3). Given that Saul was faced with forced conversion by the enemy, endangering the lives of others as a result of torture, and making a mockery of the Israelite kingship by being paraded through the Philistine cities, the rabbis have condoned his choice to die by his own hand. The Jewish historian Josephus Flavius, writing over one thousand years later, lavished effusive praise on Saul’s exemplary heroism and strength of character (Jewish Antiquities 6.340–350).
Some scholars, however, challenge the assumption that Saul in fact committed suicide, arguing that the mortal wound inflicted by the bowmen was the actual cause of his death, even if Saul chose ultimately to fall on his sword. Conversely, the acclaimed Bible critic Robert Alter favors a translation of the text that emphasizes Saul’s fear rather than his wound, implying in The David Story that his injury wasn’t necessarily life-threatening.
The divergent interpretations of Saul’s death also reflect an additional complexity: the account in 1 Samuel 31 is actually one of three different versions of the story in the Bible, and each rendering seems to harbor its own subtle agenda. The version in our passage, related by the omniscient biblical narrator, presents Saul’s death as the tragic demise of a noble hero. The second version immediately follows the first, in 2 Samuel 1:1–16, when David is notified of Israel’s defeat in battle and the death of Saul and his sons by a young Amalekite who was present at the scene. His account does not differ greatly from the first version, but it firmly establishes David’s absence from the battlefield at the time of Saul’s death. It also serves as a platform for David’s reaction to the news, allowing the reader to witness his grief and anger over his rival’s demise. A cover story in People magazine cleverly placed by a twenty-first-century spin doctor could not have surpassed this public relations accomplishment.
The third version of the story appears in the pro-Davidic book of Chronicles (1 Chron. 10:1–14). Discreet differences in the telling sniff disapprovingly at Saul, and ultimately the Chronicler leaves no room for doubt by the end of the passage. He condemns Saul as a sinner who received his just desserts: death and the loss of the kingdom to the house of David.
The multiple accounts of Saul’s death and their identifiable differences exemplify the terrific challenge inherent in the writing and editing of the Bible: many stories have more than one version, so which one do we tell? The answer is include them all, and allow the reader the freedom to choose.
Saul seemed to have an uncanny premonition about the future preoccupation with his demise. What’s notable about the final scene on Mount Gilboa in all three versions is that at the end, Saul’s worst fear was not his inevitable death but rather the manner in which he would die. In this concern lies his true nobility. The Israelite army had been disgracefully routed, Saul’s three sons were dead, and now he was seriously wounded by the Philistine archers. He knew that if the Philistines abused and tortured him while still alive, the Israelite monarchy would forever bear the black mark of his dishonorable death. In the midst of this terrible tragedy, Saul was thinking ahead to the future generations of Israel. His ultimate wish was to die in a way that would make Israel proud to retell the story of his death.